


In The Evenings

by Crystalwren



Category: Kyo kara Maoh!/今日からマ王！
Genre: Gisela & Gunter vK.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalwren/pseuds/Crystalwren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the day is done, Gisela visits her father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Evenings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arana_suteshi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=arana_suteshi).



The air was close and warm, too warm, and Gisela felt beads of sweat begin to form on her upper lip as she pushed the door shut behind her. Her father was curled up in an ancient armchair, napping with book in lap. The door clicked and he snapped upright.

"It's only me," Gisela said.

Günter instantly relaxed. He reminded her of a carved wooden toy she'd seen once in a market. A little animal, a goat or sheep, stood upon a platform. It was carved in many cunning, tiny pieces, stung together with string. If you pressed the platform down the taunt string would suddenly relax and the animal would crumble into an untidy heap. Releasing the platform made the string tighten and the little animal would stand up again, its limbs now twisted into bizarre shapes.

Press the platform. Günter dropped into a boneless heap.

Release the platform. Günter tensed, turning into a vibrating bundle of nerves.

Gisela sometimes wondered if she had two fathers, one who cheerfully made a fool of himself and bounced off the ceiling like a rubber ball and this one, the one that only she ever saw, who could surely grow moss in his fur, sloth-like.

A slender hand reached out and seized hers, and she allowed herself to be pulled close. A swift, hard kiss to the top of her head before she was released. They so rarely touched that she found herself blinking in surprise. Something must have happened to upset him but when she looked into his face nothing showed. Behind the kindness of Günter's violet eyes there was a wall and she had never seen behind it.

"Good evening, Gisela," he said, settling his feet more firmly under his body. He felt the cold so badly, that's why he always wore a cloak no matter the weather, and his rooms were always kept over warm.

"Good evening, Father," she said, bending to unlace her boots. In her socks she padded to one of the many bookshelves that lined the room, all stuffed full of books and folios crammed with loose paper and bits of parchment. The order of the books appeared chaotic, but was in fact very precise. The problem was that the order itself tended to change; Günter would rearrange his bookshelves on a semi-regular basis, according to his mood and whims, and Gisela would have to learn the new system all over again. Irritating, but it was pointless to complain.

She ran her fingers across the spines; rough, coarse canvas bindings sitting next to smooth, gold-stamped calfskin. Her mouth moved silently as she tried to work out the order; she recognised a novel she'd read once and liked; next to that was a book on botany, and then a list of trite but pretty posy. Another novel, another botany book. Tapping her finger against the shelf she thought hard. The first novel was called after a flower of the fields, the second she remembered vaguely as being set in the countryside. Both botany books covered geographical areas renowned as pastures. The poetry book was a rather patronising eulogy to the simple life of a sheep herder. The theme in this section was 'grass'.

She settled on the second novel, which she vaguely recalled as having liked, but not well enough to remember how it ended, and seated herself in the armchair across from Günter's. Unconsciously, she mirrored him by tucking her feet under her body, and waited.

There was a soft rattle of paper as Günter turned the page of his book. He shifted, pulling a small notebook from inside his tunic, making notes with a little stick of black-dyed chalk. He cleared his throat.

"Did you have a good day today?"

"Yes Father."

"Was it interesting?"

"Yes Father." Gisela thought about it and said, "One of the draft horses presented a strange skin condition. I had to research it in the medical library, I'd never seen it before."

"That's good," Günter said approvingly, and Gisela allowed herself a small glow of satisfaction. He was happiest when she was learning something. He believed that not a day should go by that one did not learn something new, and because Gisela loved him she tried to please him. She did not always succeed. "Which horse?"

"A heavily muscled dun gelding, with two white socks-"

"I know him," Günter interrupted. He knew the names, sires and dams of every horse in the palace stables and loved them all, even the misshapen dwarf stallion that was kept out of pity, and only used to tease the mares. There was a plate of biscuits on the low table beside his chair, and he leant forward and offered it to her. "Is he in any distress?"

"Some, but I think he will start to improve inside of a week." Günter smiled and nodded. Gisela smiled back and ate her biscuit, which she knew he'd made himself. "Did you have a good day today, Father?"

Flicking his hand dismissively, he said airily, "Just more negotiations with Big Cimeron," and she knew that he'd had an awful day and he didn't want to talk about it. The more important, the more it upset him, the less likely he was to bring it up. He never spoke about his family. He'd never told her why he'd left the von Christ Provence to become a teacher. He utterly refused to tell her why he'd never married, never had children even though he loved them. He liked being around people, but was the most isolated person she'd ever met.

"What are you reading, Father?"

And he began to talk, and Gisela sighed in contentment and let her eyes slide closed.

Günter would talk until she fell asleep and then he'd quieten, be still again. He'd go back to his book and if she had bad dreams he'd stroke her hand gently, until they faded away, and when it was time to go to bed he'd scrape his thumbnail against her jaw until she woke.

Gisela knew very little about her father, when all was said and done, but she knew that he would protect her. And that he loved her.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kkm_challenge community, round 40, prompt of 'books'. Also as a gift for arana_suteshi.


End file.
